


Non, je ne regrette rien

by feyrelay



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, New Relationship, Short & Sweet, Switching, Top Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 02:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20202307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrelay/pseuds/feyrelay
Summary: This was once a deleted scene I wrote for a collab fic of mine, before we decided to go in a different direction.Now it's way more sweet than smutty so if you're wanting to get off, you might wanna scroll on.





	Non, je ne regrette rien

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peachbabypie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peachbabypie/gifts).

"Would you mind if I kissed you, kid?" 

Tony doesn’t have to ask, surely. _ Surely he knows that, _ Peter thinks, even as the moment hovers, heats, breaks.

It takes Peter back to sixteen though he's years past that, now. He remembers countless first kisses, with Michelle and Gwen and Harry and Felicia and Jessica and once even with Ned. He'd told himself and them that they were each his new first kiss, because, well. None of them had really felt like they counted. This one's gonna count though, he knows. 

“No,” Peter answers. “I’m going to kiss you first.” And he does, just going for it, without much plan or even a goal in mind beyond _ more_, _now,_ and _please._

It seems to shock Tony, not too much, but it’s definitely a departure from how things have been building. Peter wonders if Tony expected him to shrink back and wait. He wonders if he was meant to be quieter, more eager to receive, like he’d been at each of their dates and training sessions and team-building exercises. Like he usually played at, wanting to be nice and polite. (As if Peter weren't always ravenous.)

It’s almost as if Tony doesn’t know what a tempting spread he makes.

The kiss goes on for more than a moment, though it’s hard to feel for exactly how long with Peter’s senses stretching out taffy-smooth with the feeling. Tony is coaxed gently higher, coming up off his knees with creaks and pops, sounds that Peter covers with small, punctuating kisses. He lets them trail off like an ellipse as he maneuvers Tony to be more of a height with him, and more comfortable on the bed.

“You know,” the older man says, a touch breathlessly, “... I could have sworn I had plans to get on my knees for you. You distracted me.”

Peter hums, thinking that’s sweet, and kisses him again. He enjoys, in particular, how into it Tony is. Sure, over the years, Peter’s imagined him in every which way from the stern, watchful authoritarian to the dismissive, playboy type, but his fantasies never quite matched this rapt attention.

“So did I, earlier,” Peter counters, picking up the thread of the conversation after he breaks their kiss. 

“Earlier, earlier,” Tony teases. “I’m still a bit stuck on the here and now. Besides, Bruce nearly caught you. At dinner. That was a close one.”

“Bruce isn’t here now,” Peter reminds him.

“Touché.”

Peter takes the time to thumb at Tony’s face, working up to saying what needs to be said. “I knew it would surprise you; you’ve been treating me like I need to be led, feeding me with little morsels, little new excitements. But I don’t need to be led, not really. I need to be _let._ I’ve been thinking about getting on my knees for you for longer than you’d believe.”

Tony doesn’t say it, not verbally, but his expression says it all. _Oh._

Peter sits up, getting them situated. “So what do you say? Let me have one more expensive taste for tonight?”

As if Tony would - or could, even - say ‘no’ to that.

And Peter finds little treats for himself along the way, too. He delights in things like a lungful of Tony’s smell at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, which Peter spares a moment for. It’s nice, too, the way Tony has to be encouraged out of his shirt, with Peter folding his fingers ‘round the appropriate buttons for him. It makes Peter feel like a prize, like Tony can’t believe his luck.

As he continues on his way, there’s also the older man’s belt to contend with, which Peter makes short, deft work of, but lingers over anyway. It’s a nice leather that has its own smell and practically its own taste as Peter settles in, unzipping Tony’s flies to get at him. The anticipation, too, is an assault on Peter’s senses.

This is what is different from Gwen or from the detached dalliances with near-faceless older men from SI or from galas; he knows Tony. It makes this an indelicate thing, not a fluttering, polite, I’ll pretend your skin has no scent, no taste, no mark kind of thing. It’s… personal. Raw.

At least, that’s what goes through Peter’s mind as he presses his face into the crease of Tony’s thigh, just as soon as he gets both trousers and underwear out of the way. There’s no lightness to it, and very little finesse. Peter breathes in and feels every inch the animal.

Licking someone’s sweat from along the line of their pubic hair is a bit like plunging your hand into a fresh cake, or into a bit of damp earth. You don’t know why you want to do it, Peter thinks, but you do.

Tony, for his part, seems to be right there with him, in the absurd sensory pleasure of it all. Peter knows he wants his mouth on him, for Peter to take his cock in and get to it, but this also satisfies, on some level.

It’s a relief. Peter nuzzles and hums into him and Tony gasps and that’s good enough. That’ll do.

From then, Peter moves on to what he knows he must be good at. He takes Tony in wetly, carefully. He’s watched enough pornography and had enough foreplay that he can relax into it, sinking ambitiously over as much length as he can get. He wants Tony to be warm, after today. He wants to _ be _ warmth, for him.

Peter is strong, and has great lung capacity and even greater enthusiasm. In spite of Tony’s age, he knows this won’t take long. Peter intends to make it an experience, though, regardless, and he accomplishes this by using his tongue to its fullest advantage. It’s no hardship; his cheeky comment earlier about Tony’s expensive taste was prophetic.

Tony’s hands tug in Peter’s hair, not meanly, just as a means of connection that Peter more than welcomes. He’s had his eyes closed, savoring the salt-trace taste of skin as he bobs up and down, but Tony’s hands prompt him to pull back a little, and look at the man he’s so eager to please.

“As much as I _ love _ you in that position, I also want your face, your attention,” Tony says and it hits Peter right in the chest. Jesus, they should have been doing this for years.

In response, Peter takes a sexy, bratty tack with him, in a bid to distract from the sudden ache of sentiment. He licks a long, hot stripe up the underside of Tony’s cock again and then lets his jaw stay open to drizzle him in saliva. It’s honestly one of those things that only works with two people that desperately want to get off, with each other, more than they want to seem perfect.

That’s what Peter likes about this; it’s not performative, it’s just scorching hot.

Tony watches him do it and Peter watches him watch him do it, and they’re caught in an infinity loop of Peter getting Tony’s dick nice and wet so Tony can luxuriate in the feeling of jerking himself off under Peter’s gaze.

He honestly can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be and says as much.

Tony blows out a breath - free arm slung over his forehead - and arches up with his hips under Peter’s hands. “Ditto, kid, Jesus. You’ve gotta be a sin.”

Peter hums, not disagreeing. “I can’t decide if I want to let you come like that. Seems a waste, am I right?”

At that, Tony sits up a bit, uncovering his face and pushing up on his elbow to encourage Peter to lean up, closer to him. “Let me? _ Let _ me?” he says fondly. His pace slows, though.

Peter’s a gentleman and decides not to comment, decides just to enjoy Tony’s obedience in silence. He makes sure to press another kiss to Tony’s lips, wanting him to taste what Peter had so enjoyed, even if Tony hadn’t let him finish his work.

It hardly matters anyway, because a plan is taking shape in Peter’s mind. “I know you’ve said you want to give me every experience. I saw it with my own eyes, everywhere we went, you guiding me through new flavors, practically controlling me.”

“Mmhmm- ah-,” Tony starts lazily, ending on a gasp as Peter takes him back in hand. 

“I know it gets you off, the control,” Peter continues. Tony doesn’t even try to deny it.

Instead, Tony rolls his body more fully into Peter’s space, tucking his face into Peter’s neck and allowing pleasure to be drawn from him. Peter smiles into Tony’s shoulder, hand still hot and devious between them, though he continues that for only a moment longer, not wanting things to boil over.

The next thing he tries is palming Tony’s ass on a lean forward. Peter whispers, “Do you think you could help me control the experience, here? From under me, even? Are you man enough?”

Tony snorts into his neck, shoving him playfully backward. “Suck one cock and you think you know everything, hmm?” he blusters, but Peter notices how dark those already-dark eyes have gotten.

Peter waits it out.

He notices Tony’s hands don’t leave him after the shove; instead they toy with the hem of Peter’s shirt, reminding them both that Peter is still fully clothed while Tony looks more like he’s just been mauled. It’s a powerful feeling.

“You’ve spent years practically begging me to fuck you, and now you’re gonna turn the tables, is that it? Change your mind?” Tony inquires softly. Peter hears it for what it is: _ Did I scare you off? _ Is what Tony’s asking.

“Not at all. I’m counting on variety being the spice of life. It’s just. I’ve never done exactly this with anyone else. Never wanted to. It’s scary, I guess… being in control. A responsibility. Will you help me?” Peter manages, all his sincerity and love leaking through.

It takes only a few moments, and only that long because Tony appears to be basking in Peter’s words. “I’ll help you. I’ll always help you, come here. God, you’re so good.”

Peter allows Tony to help him with his own shirt, and then lets the older man explore his musculature for a warm moment. “I always forget how strong you are,” Tony says quietly, and Peter beams, charmed.

“Oh yeah?” he says a little cockily, busy getting the rest of his clothes off as Tony watches him, lazily stroking himself.

“Mmm, definitely. Just like you forget how incredibly handsome I am when I’m not in the room, right?” Tony teases. Peter’s not sure where this light, playful side of him has been hiding, but he wouldn’t trade it away, not for anything.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re in the room or not,” Peter says honestly, returning to the bed. “I think about this all the time.”

“For how long?”

Peter tries not to sigh, tries not to put more emphasis on this than there already is, afraid of being completely caught out. “You already said, a minute ago. Years.”

Tony gently thumbs at Peter’s temple, pushing away a stray wave gone limp with sweat. “My sick puppy. Let’s _ not _ do the math on that and say we did, eh?”

(Agreed.)

“Let’s focus on the things you don’t already know about me, yeah?” Peter plays along. “Like, for instance,” he starts, manhandling Tony into a more comfortable position, “how I can rearrange you however I want and then hold you down with one hand, if I want to?”

Breath gusts out of the older man at that and Peter takes a moment to feel proud of himself. Ever the gentlemen, he gives Tony a moment to metabolize that image, searching for lube.

He’s not so much of a gentleman, though, that he doesn’t plant a hand on Tony’s chest, leaning over him to reach for the drawer of his nightstand, just to remind him of which way this is going. Peter’s not going to let him _forget__._

“You’d better decide how you want it,” he adds, pragmatic.

Tony makes a truly gratifying whine, so completely at odds with his normal personality, and Peter preens. He really Did That.

Suddenly, though, he’s wondering about all the other people who have Done That. He frowns, knowing of course that Tony must be experienced. It doesn’t bother him, because it’s a part of who Tony is, but. Well. Is it anyone they know?

Peter dresses it up as a question of logistics. “I mean, you might want to think about how it’s going to be different, with my strength and all. I’d never hurt you, but… I don’t want it to be a shock. Have you ever been with someone with powers before?” he fishes.

Tony is still—he has no choice, with Peter’s hand still on him—but his head tilts like he hears the unspoken question there, in echo. The older man uses powerful quads to lever a leg up and around to toe at Peter’s side, a quick, short wakeup call as Peter frets. “Who would I want but you? You’re the best of us. You’re what the Avengers should always have been, kid.”

Peter bites his lip, bites back a little smile. As far as ‘first kisses’ go, this one has been pretty gratifying. He’s content.

Now… onto that first fuck. Peter says as much, and Tony laughs a bright and happy, kaleidoscoping thing. Of course, they both know the conceit of it, the truth of Peter’s fumbling experiences, but. It hardly matters.

Peter’s life and his joy began again, today. Tony’s, too.

And now they know just where to paper over.


End file.
